


Poles Baby, Poles

by stilesinwonderland (itsabravenewworld)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-12
Updated: 2013-09-12
Packaged: 2017-12-26 08:42:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsabravenewworld/pseuds/stilesinwonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kat was asking for someone to write something with Stiles or Derek pole dancing and I was like “yeah sure man” so here it is</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poles Baby, Poles

“Stiles.” The music blared loudly enough to drown out Derek’s choked voice of barely concealed surprise. Somehow, he kept his voice monotone enough, even though he was fucking losing his mind because- “is that a pole?”

 

Stiles swung fully from the top of the ceiling, rotating around the metal pole, nearly upside down. His back bent at a curve, exposing the small of his back because the fabric of his tight wife beater flung up with the force of his movements. It was fluid, and he kept his eyes closed in concentration.  The bulges of his muscles were ridiculously obscene as he held himself and concentrated on spinning faster while keeping rhythm with the bass. Derek watched as his toes pointed and his legs _curved,_ and he was basically upside down and tilting at an angle all at once.

 

When he mounted the ground once again, Stiles licked at his lips, and the sweat showed in the light of the empty gym, dotting his forehead. Derek wondered how long he had been here, practicing this because he didn’t even seem tired or worn out. There had been a sudden pack meeting that Stiles had missed, and Scott wouldn’t have left Derek alone if he didn’t go and find him. Derek admittedly was the only one besides Scott who truly knew Stiles’ scent and Scott was stuck with his mom so Derek was stuck with search duty.

 

But currently his ability to find Stiles’ scent was going to _kill_ him because it was intoxicating, and completely overwhelming, causing his nostrils to flare. He growled quietly in his throat, and praised everything when Stiles didn’t open his eyes and didn’t see Derek standing there with his fingers curled to the palm and his nails digging into the skin tightly. He was blissfully swaying from side to side to the next song playing before launching himself up again, climbing up, one foot at a time, and twirling around and around as he rose higher off of the ground. He slid down slowly, with his legs wrapped around the pole at the ankles, tossing his head back and throwing his body down until he landed with a huff.

 

“Right, right,” he muttered, and was breathing hard, intensely focused and staring at the pole in front of him, with his side facing Derek, still standing in the doorway out of view. The planes of his chest puffed out with his deeper breaths from exertion, stretching out the fabric of his black and thin t-shirt. He looked graceful, even in a pair of light gray sweatpants that tapered at the ankle and didn’t seem like they affected his mobility at _all._ Grace wasn’t usually a thing Stiles usually displayed; seeing it played out like that was a wrecking ball to the face.

 

But the wrecking ball fell off of the chain and crashed into a building as Stiles completed a backwards turn-around and opened his eyes, directly meeting Derek’s own. Derek blinked, panicked, and Stiles mirrored him, but he was currently in a much different position, so he nearly crashed to the floor as he let go of the bar with his hands creating a frantic sounding squeak. “ _Fuc-_ Derek what the- what the _hell_ are you _even,”_ he wheezed, standing awkwardly behind the bar as if it would hide him. “Did you like follow me here, how long were you _there,_ Christ, you scared me.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“Gave me a heart attack, dude,” Stiles complained, clutching at his chest which Derek could _hear_ beating frantically against his chest, but not at a different pace than it had been before, when he was dancing.

 

“Sorry,” Derek said again, and Stiles’ mouth twitched because Derek’s lack for words, even cruel ones, seemed to be entertaining. “You weren’t at the meeting, I came to find you.”

 

“Meeting?” Stiles pulled his phone out of his pocket and how had that not fallen out before- “oh shit, I didn’t see the text.”

 

“It was two hours ago,” Derek commented, watching him, advancing. It was probably because Stiles just smelled really good, like musk and sweat, and it was just driving him nuts. Derek shook his head to attempt to clear his mind, and he soon realized that keeping his focus on Stiles’s biceps was not much easier than staring at his chest, which both showed lean muscle that was usually covered by a t-shirt and hoodie. Those biceps flung to the side as Stiles made a dramatic gesture, advancing towards the doorway, and Derek’s gaze followed him closely, intensely.

 

“So like, this is totally awkward and also _totally_ my fault, and we’re going to forget this is a thing that happened, okay? _Great,”_ Stiles walked past him, or tried to, but Derek’s body was apparently working better than his mind and reacted much much quicker because it had Stiles up against the glass mirror to his left and his palm was digging, traveling the planes of heat on his body. Stiles moaned before they even kissed, a desperate sound of longing, and Derek could only oblige, biting at the skin first before connecting their mouths and in one fluid motion, rolling his body until they were flush. His palm hit the glass behind them, and he could already contrast how warm he was from the chilly mirror. Stiles formed goosebumps as the skin of his lower back pressed against the cool glass as well with a press of Derek’s body, and he moved to meet him closer.

 

“Shit,” Derek said, even as Stiles’s mouth slid back over his, chasing after him as he stepped back. “Is this,” a noise broke free from his throat because Stiles just kept _kissing_ him, and he pushed him back again, clutching at his face and trailing his hands down. His fingers dug into soft skin and taut muscles of Stiles’s abdomen, scratching lightly to create shivers.

 

Their lips created a smacking noise and Derek could tell his stubble was creating a burn on the skin directly around Stiles’s mouth with their desperation, so he released to lean his face into Stiles’s neck and licked slightly at the skin there, still tinged with sweat.

 

“You look perfect up there,” Derek blurted out, into the salty skin. “When did you start doing that anyways?” He kissed Stiles again before he could answer, delaying it for a little while until their breaths came heavy again.

 

“Couple years ago. It was like a Feng shui meditation thing, and I turned out to be good for it.” Who knew,” Stiles spoke through panting breaths because Derek was mouthing at his skin again, gasping as Derek bit along his neck, “that pole dancing would be a thing for you, Jesus.”

 

“It’s not even a pole dancing thing,” Derek started, looking at him. “I think- maybe it’s just a _you_ thing. Or maybe it is a dancing thing, I don’t know.” Stiles grinned, pulling him by the neck and melding their mouths together.

 

“I’m totally teaching you how.” Stiles grinned mischievously.

 

Derek glared, unimpressed. “No way Stilinski.”

 

“Come on Derek! It’ll be fun!”

 

“Over my dead body.” They still spoke between small kisses, never seperating more than a few inches.

 

“Please?”

 

“Not even a slight chance.”

 


End file.
